Meet Doctor House
by penny4him
Summary: House, in what seems to be an unusually good mood, actually shows up for clinic duty.  There, he meets a girl with an unusual problem.
1. The Doctor

**Meet Doctor House**

_The recognizable characters appearing in this work are copyright; this story is written for entertainment purposes only. No challenge to the copyright holders is intended, neither should any be inferred._

Chapter 1: Enter the Doctor

Mallory Adams entered the clinic at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital a bit hesitantly. She scanned the waiting room full of crying babies, whining children, coughing and sneezing old people, and generally fatigued-looking individuals. The twenty-four year-old contemplated turning around and leaving. Who knew how long the wait would be, and maybe it was stupid of her to come here anyway. She turned, and nearly tripped over someone's cane. "Sorry," Mallory muttered, embarrassed, and tried to sidestep the gentleman who was just coming in the doorway. This time the cane was thrust horizontally across the door frame, blocking her exit.

"Going somewhere? You're next." The stranger lowered the cane. "Follow me."

Mallory's eyes took in his suit jacket, _Metallica_ t-shirt, blue jeans, and running shoes doubtfully. "You're a doctor?"

House grinned. "Isn't it obvious? Now, you interested in jumping the line, or what?"

Okay, this guy definitely wasn't your run-of-the-mill MD, but for a chance to avoid a two hour wait, why not? "Um...sure."

"Then follow _moi_."

They started towards the exam rooms amidst curious stares from other waiting patients. "Um, Dr. _?"

"House," he supplied, with barely a glance over his shoulder.

"I haven't given the desk my insurance information yet."

"It's a free clinic."

"Oh. But I don't even have a chart here."

"Don't care."

Okay, this doctor was _weird_. Mallory decided maybe she liked that.

One of the clinic assistants hurried up to House. "Dr. House, you can't just take this patient next, there's an _order_..."

House kept walking. Mallory followed. Behind her she heard a second woman's voice saying, "Just let it go. Dr. House is _actually_ at the clinic, and he's _actually_ going to see a patient. We should just be happy for that!"

They entered exam room three and House shoved the door shut with his cane. Mallory was feeling a bit guilty. "What if there were other people out there with more urgent needs than–"

House cut her off. "This is a _clinic_, not the ER."

"Right..."

The unusual doctor pulled up a chair and gestured Mallory towards the exam table. She ignored the hand wave and chose to sit in another chair instead.

"Okay," said House. "What's up?"

Mallory smiled. "Question first. Why'd you pick me?"

House shrugged. "Just feeling arbitrary, I guess. Plus, you were the only one in the room with a question mark above your head."

"A question mark?"

"Meaning, you were the only one who I couldn't tell at a glance what you're here for."

"Oh."

"Piqued my curiosity. So, we gonna get down to it or what?"

Strangely enough, Mallory was feeling oddly at ease with this doctor and his unexpected quirks. Maybe it was because it seemed like he always said what he meant and meant what he said. "Ya...it's kinda weird, but I think I've lost my sense of smell."

"Cool."

Cool? Okay, that was unexpected. "Not cool," Mallory protested. "I want it back. Food has practically no taste, flowers are just...colorful...it's like life's a black-and-white TV all of a sudden, when I was used to High Def."

"Uh-huh. You haven't got a cold?"

"No."

"Fever?"

"No."

"Aches, pains?"

"Nope."

"On any meds?"

"The pill."

"Take herbs?"

"Echinacea, when I'm getting a cold."

"Vitamins?"

"Ya. Just multivitamins from Walmart."

"Any allergies?"

"Nothing that would affect my nose."

"I said _any_ allergies."

This rapid-fire series of questions was beginning to feel like an interrogation. "Well, penicillin, amoxicillin, amoxil, ampicillin–"

"Ya ya ya." House waved his hand. "Those are all different kinds of penicillin."

"Oh...sorry." Mallory's cheeks flushed, embarrassed. Why hadn't she known that?

"Carry on."

"Sensitive skin."

"More specifically...?"

"Laundry soaps, deodorants, perfumes, band-aids, latex...I think that's all."

"Latex. Good to know. How'd you find out about that one? Go to the dentist a lot or something?"

"Or something."

"Meaning...?" he prodded.

"Um...biology class? Dissecting frogs..."

"Right. You're lying."

Mallory blushed. "What makes you say that?"

"First, you said 'um', second, 'biology class' sounded like a question, third, you looked up and to the left before answering, a general indicator of accessing the creativity centers of the brain, whereas looking up and to the right is generally accessing memory, fourth, you're blushing–"

"Okay, okay. It was actually when I was blowing up too many balloons for a birthday party."

"Right," came the sarcastic reply. "Good try."

"What does it matter _how_ I know I'm allergic to latex? What does that have to do with my sense of smell? Is it even relevant?"

House shrugged. "Maybe. Why don't you want to tell me?"

Mallory looked down, suddenly absorbed with brushing some imaginary dust from her pant leg. "Embarrassed," she muttered. "It was condoms, okay? Latex condoms."

"Ah. That...does not sound pleasant."

"No," she agreed, her face suddenly feeling quite warm again.

Thankfully, House left it at that. "So, the loss of your sense of smell. Was this a sudden or gradual thing?"

"Pretty sudden. One day I could smell, then the next, nothing. Noticed it when I was crushing garlic for spaghetti one night."

"How long ago was that?"

"Two weeks. I kept hoping it would just come back on it's own. Thought maybe I was getting a weird cold or something, and I kept expecting my throat to start hurting, or my nose to start running or something, but no."

"Okay. Well, hop up." House waved his cane at the exam table. "Gonna look up your nose."

"Oh, joy."

House poked around in the cupboards, finally coming up with a box labeled "Medical grade plastic gloves. 100% latex-free." He pulled a pair on and frowned slightly. "No fun snapping noise," he explained.

Mallory gave a half-hearted smile as House picked up an otoscope and flicked on the light. "This is kind of embarrassing..."

"I've seen boogers before," he reassured. "And much more embarrassing things. Just don't sneeze," he added, taking a look.

Mallory wasn't sure whether that was a joke or not. She held her breath as he inspected one nostril and then the other.

"Seems normal," he stated. "Okay, breathe though."

"You sure?"

"Wouldn't have said it if I wasn't."

Mallory breathed normally, Dr. House still peering up her nose. "Yup, all normal." He tossed the plastic end of the otoscope into the trash and got a tongue depressor. "Throat now."

Obediently she opened her mouth and he shone the light around. "No visible physical damage." He tossed the tongue depressor across the room as though he were shooting hoops. "Score!" He peeled off his gloves and did the same with them. "Okay, could be that your nose and your brain just aren't getting along at the moment. Not talking to each other."

"A brain problem?" Mallory paled visibly and inadvertently clutched her stomach.

"_Or_ it could be something else," House hastily amended. "You use any strong chemicals?"

"You mean, like drugs?"

"Nooo...I mean like paint thinner."

"Oh. Nope. And no drugs either."

"Your place or the neighbors' recently fumigated?"

"No."

"Oven cleaner?"

"I have a self-cleaning oven."

"Paint anything lately?"

"Nope."

House drummed his fingers on the top of his cane for a moment, fixing Mallory with a stare. Quite an unnerving stare. She smoothed her hair self-consciously. "What?"

"Anything else you're not telling me?"

"Umm..." she blushed slightly again. "Well...I've been having vivid dreams. Not vivid in the normal sense, but with lots of smells in them. Bread baking. Rain. Skunks. Diesel exhaust. Campfire smoke. Freshly mown grass."

He nodded and stood up. "Okay, I think we're going to get you in for a head CT."

"Because of my dreams?"

"Nope. Because you can't smell. The dreams are just your brain's way of trying to compensate for the lost sense."

"Oh, okay."

House reached for the doorknob.

"Dr. House?"

He turned and looked at her.

"Do you think I'm gonna be able to smell again?"

He shrugged. "Too early to tell. Maybe. Maybe not."

So much for reassurances.

* * *

A/N: In progress. All reviews appreciated.


	2. The Friend

Chapter Two: Enter The Friend

House knocked twice on the door to Wilson's office, then walked in without waiting for a response.

Wilson looked up from his computer, a look of slight annoyance creasing his brows at this breach of etiquette, but then his expression relaxed, seeing his unorthodox friend. "Please do come in," Wilson jibbed, as House flopped down onto his couch, feet hanging over the armrest, and began absentmindedly twirling his cane in slow circles over his head.

"Anosmia," House said without preamble.

Wilson thought back to medical school and Greek roots. "The state of...having no nose?" he asked. It wasn't a term he'd heard in a long time.

House stopped twirling the cane and gave his friend an incredulous look. "You think I'd have a patient with no nose, and not invite you to come and gawk, on some pretext? What kind of a friend do you think I am? It's no sense of smell."

"Ah." Wilson shrugged dismissively. "Lots of people are born with no sense of smell."

"This girl lost hers two weeks ago."

"Oh. And that actually interests you?" Wilson was surprised – it did seem a little blasé for House's tastes.

House began twirling his cane again. "Dr. Wilson," he said sarcastically, "the basis of my practice is patient care, not merely taking cases that interest me."

Wilson smiled wryly and turned his attention back to his computer screen for a moment. "Of course," came the equally sarcastic reply.

"Anyway, I jumped the line and got her in for a head CT."

"What?' This time the annoyed expression that crossed Wilson's face stayed there. "House, there's like a three week waiting list for CT scans. You can't just throw some patient in unless it's an emergency."

"Ya, well, I'm impatient. Don't like to wait. Plus, she's pretty."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "The rules apply to everyone but you."

"Of course."

Wilson noted with some irony that House actually sounded sincere.

"How'd she lose her sense of smell anyway, blow to the head?"

"Don't know yet." He looked thoughtful. "Didn't ask about _that_, but she couldn't pinpoint any single event that triggered it, so unless suffering a blow to her head has also given her amnesia, I don't think so." He sat up and stretched briefly. "No apparent physical damage to the nasal membranes either."

"You scoped her?"

"Naw, just the otoscope."

"Endoscope would see more."

"Ya, but I'm already doing a CT, so I'll see the sinus cavities, olfactory nerves, the whole bit."

"You were being nice." It sounded like an accusation.

"What?"

"You didn't want to stick an endoscope up her nose, just to spare her the discomfort."

"Didn't want to take time to track down an endoscope," House defended. "It's not like we have them in every room. The otoscope was more convenient, and totally sufficient."

"Right. Methinks the doctor doth protest too much," Wilson replied.

House rolled his eyes.

"Are you sure she can't smell?" Wilson asked. "Maybe it's just Münchhausen's. As you always say, 'everybody lies'."

"She wasn't lying."

"Because she'd pretty."

"_No_, I _know_ she wasn't lying about that; she did lie about something else though, so I'm still right, everybody does lie."

"Maybe she's just a good liar."

"You're in a pretty skeptical mood today."

_And surprisingly _you_ aren't_. Wilson didn't say it out loud. If House was actually in a good mood, no sense spoiling it. "Just playing Devil's Advocate," he said instead.

"Uh-huh. Well, I happen to _know_ she can't smell, because I cracked one off just after we entered the exam room, and she didn't so much as blink."

Wilson gave him a slightly open-mouthed stare for a moment, and wrinkled up his own nose in disgust. "Okay, that was just too much information. Maybe she was just being polite, House. Some people actually are."

House ignored the jibe.

"I mean, she must have _heard_ it at least..." Wilson went on.

"Silent but deadly."

"Oh."

"And if she had a sense of smell, she would've made a face, or coughed or blushed – she blushes a lot," he interjected. "I mean, _I_ could hardly keep a straight face–"

Wilson had that slightly disgusted look again. "Like I said, too much information."

"More like too much bean filling in the beef-n'-bean burritos–"

"House! I haven't had lunch yet."

House smirked and got to his feet, heading towards the door. "Then steer clear of the burritos," he called over his shoulder. "Gonna go see the CT results."

* * *

A/N: In progress. All reviews appreciated.


	3. The Musician

Chapter 3: Enter the Musician

Mallory sat at the old upright piano in the hospital's dimly lit chapel and let her fingers run idly over the dusty keys. Despite the dust, she was pleasantly surprised to find the piano in tune, and soon lost herself in playing.

"Bach's Brandenburg Concerto Number Two," a voice said in her left ear.

Startled, Mallory jumped a good three inches off the bench and stopped playing. Dr. House was standing not two feet behind her, an appraising look in his eye. She wondered how long he'd been there. Mallory tried to calm her racing heart and fixed House with a scolding expression that was negated by the smile on her lips. "Just because you're a doctor, doesn't mean you should go around trying to give people heart attacks!"

House smiled wryly and surprised Mallory further by sitting down on the piano bench beside her. It was a duet bench, but still, sitting beside someone on a piano bench of any size certainly didn't give one much personal space. Mallory could feel herself blushing at the close physical proximity between them, but hoped it didn't show in the chapel's soft light.

"You know your music," she said, wiping dusty fingers on her pant legs in order to avoid looking at him.

"Some," House agreed. "Apparently so do you."

"Some," she echoed, and he smiled. "Although if you knew why I learned this particular piece you might not think so."

"Intriguing," House stated. "Not in the course of regular piano lessons, I take it?"

"Nope. X-files."

"X-files...as in, Mulder and Scully?"

"Yah – there's this one episode where they mention that a 'Welcome to Earth' message was constantly being broadcast in case aliens happened to be listening – said broadcast including that particular Bach concerto, chosen because it was considered to be the most beautiful piece of music on Earth. So, that's what inspired me to learn it."

"Hmm," House said. "And do you consider it to be the most beautiful piece of music on Earth?"

Mallory laughed. "No. I like it, but I'm more partial to Beethoven's _Sonate Pathetique_ myself, although why it's called 'pathetic' I'll never understand..." She stopped talking, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry; I'm rambling on, and you probably came to tell me something important, like my test results?"

"Nope," House said. "Carry on. It's been ages since I had an intelligent conversation about classical music with anyone, and your CT scan results aren't back yet."

"Oh. Okay." Mallory sighed. "You know, when I'm playing piano, for awhile I can forget everything that's wrong, like my sense of smell..."

House nodded slowly. "I know," he said, and Mallory noticed that he unconsciously rubbed his bad leg as he said it. "Well go ahead, play something else," House said. "Just ignore me."

"_Easier said than done,_" Mallory thought, "_with you sitting so close to me and your blue, blue eyes... Stop it!_" she told herself. "He's just interested in music. Besides, he may be handsome but he's probably at least 15 years older than I am..." She started in on _Sonate Pathetique_, hoping she could remember it all, and trying not to wonder what Dr. House would smell like if she had her sense of smell back.

"Am I making you nervous?"

The question was so unexpected that Mallory stopped playing again. "A bit, but surprisingly not too much...Why?"

He inclined his head towards the piano keys. "Your hands are shaking."

"Oh." Mallory tried to will her fingers still, but found she could not. "Do you think this means I have a brain problem?" She felt her stomach clench painfully even as she asked it.

House didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to peer intently at her face. "_As if his silence wasn't disconcerting enough,_" Mallory thought.

She seemed a bit pale, House thought, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Umm, I guess it's been kinda long, actually."

"When?" He tone brooked no further evasions.

"Dinner last night."

"So you've had nothing for the last, what, 20 hours?"

"I had some water."

"Water. Right. No wonder your hands are shaking. Come with me." He got up and headed for the chapel's exit without waiting to see if she followed.

* * *

Mallory stared glumly at the lunch choices in the hospital cafeteria. "Chicken salad," she said finally.

"And..." House prompted from her left elbow.

She gave him an exasperated look, but dutifully added "And...um, corn chips." Mallory gave House a sideways glance. "You happy now?" she mouthed.

He nodded once, apparently satisfied, and led the way to a table.

It was odd, Mallory thought, sitting at a table for two with Dr. House. Almost like they were on a date... "_Oh stop it,_" she told herself. "So," she ventured aloud, "a salad's not good enough for a meal?"

"Not when your hands are shaking because your blood sugar's in the basement."

"Ya...about that..." Mallory started, blushing once again, "It's not like I'm one of those people who starves themselves...it's just that everything is so tasteless now, for the last couple of weeks."

House took a sip of his coffee and grimaced slightly at the less-than-fresh taste. "I know you're not anorexic," he said. "Not," he added quickly, "that you're fat, because you're not – just that you don't show any of the characteristic signs of it. In fact, I'd say you're about the perfect weight – you could even gain a few pounds...anyway, you need to take care of yourself." Even as he said it he wondered where that had come from; what was it about her that made him actually, well, care? Not only about her, but about her opinion of him too. Beyond the puzzle of her anosmia, something about this girl intrigued him, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Mallory looked like she was about to say something, but his phone beeped, interrupting her reply and his musings. House glanced down at the screen briefly and then back up at Mallory. "CT results are finally back."

* * *

A/N: In progress. Click the review button, s'il vous plait :)


	4. The Biker

**Chapter 4: The Biker**

"...And then I was going on about how she's 'the perfect weight' because I didn't want her to think _I_ thought she was fat! Which she isn't at all, by the way..."

"You told her what?" Wilson looked somewhat dumbfounded.

"I know."

"Why do you actually _care_ what this particular patient thinks of you? You never care what anyone thinks of you."

"True."

"So, this girl is different because...?"

"I wish I knew. There's just something about her..."

Wilson smiled knowingly. "It's called infatuation."

House didn't deny it.

"This girl...what does she even do?"

House shrugged. "Don't know. Never asked."

"Why is she waiting around the hospital all day for test results that you could just phone her with? It's not like she has a serious condition and needs to stay here."

"Good question. The answer is obvious."

"Really. So enlighten me."

"She's into me. Attracted, I mean. Sexually."

"Right..." came the sarcastic reply. "Or maybe she just doesn't want to go home."

"Exactly. Doesn't want to go home because then she'd be away from me and all the exciting sexual tension and suave wit."

Wilson looked heavenward, as though for inspiration. "Where is she now?"

"In my office, waiting for me."

"Waiting for you to - dare I ask - do _what_?"

"Discuss her CT results, of course." House shook his head and _tsk_ed sarcastically. "I don't know what _else_ you could have been imagining."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "And the CT results are...?"

"Completely normal. Still don't know why she lost her sense of smell." House got up off of Wilson's couch and stretched luxuriously.

"House, I'm a little confused here - where's your team?"

"Chase is on vacation and Foreman and Cameron are helping out at the clinic."

"Aren't you supposed to be at the clinic too?"

House shrugged. "Not if I have a case."

"And this is a case."

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"But your team's not on the case with you."

"Because I don't need them."

"Meaning, because you want this girl all to yourself since she's apparently hot and interesting, and because it's not really a case."

House headed for the door. "Pretty much sums it up."

"If Cuddy finds out about this you'll have extra clinic duty for a week."

"Good thing she's not gonna find out."

* * *

"What do you do?"

Startled by the voice behind her, Mallory jumped and guiltily dropped House's grey-and-red ball back on to his desk. She cringed as it knocked over a penholder and a paperweight. "What do I do? I pick up things from other people's desks and then try to wreak as much destruction with them as possible, obviously."

House ignored the scattered bits of oddment in the wake of the ball and sat down in his chair, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"But if you're talking vocationally, which I take it you are, I'm a school teacher. Grade four," she supplied before he could ask.

"And since this is the middle of July-" House began.

"Summer holidays," she finished for him.

"So, is it true what they say - 'the two best reasons for being a teacher are July and August'?"

Mallory grinned. "Sometimes. But no, not really. I love my job. It's so rewarding when you see the kids figure out a difficult problem or catch on to something new."

House nodded absentmindedly, admiring Mallory's dazzling white smile and the sparkle in her eyes as she talked about teaching fourth grade. After awhile the smile disappeared and the sparkly eyes took on a look of concern. She was waiting expectantly.

"_Must have asked a question_," House realized. He nodded and flipped open a manilla folder on his desk. "You'll be happy to know your CT results are completely normal. You don't have a brain problem."

"Whew." Mallory leaned back in her chair and blew out a long breath like a deflating balloon. She smiled weakly. "Well, that's a relief!"

House nodded. "However, we still don't know what's causing the anosmia."

"And if it's temporary or permanent."

"Right."

Mallory bit her lower lip and turned her head away. She pressed one delicate hand to her mouth and blinked hard.

"Do you like motorbikes?"

"What?" Mallory looked up, startled. The question was so out-of-the-blue that she forgot she'd been about to cry.

"Motorbikes. Want to ride on one?"

"Um...okay. Sure. Where to? Why?"

"Your house."

"_My _house?"

"Yup. Thought we could check for environmental causes for your anosmia."

"Oh. My house might be a bit messy though - maybe I should go and tidy up first."

"Nope."

"No?"

"I want to see it as it is."

"Oh."

"How do you get here today?"

"Took a bus."

"Perfect. Then you won't have to worry about picking up your car later."

* * *

Mallory sat the bike easily - _with the ease of long experience_, House noted, very much surprised. She balanced so naturally it was like he didn't even have a passenger behind him. That illusion was enhanced by the fact that she wasn't holding on to him at all. House had kind of been hoping that she would hold on. He'd _thought_ she seemed attracted to him. If so, then why wouldn't she take the opportunity to hang on? It would be a perfectly reasonable excuse to touch him. Had his impression been wrong? _No_, he decided. Was it pride, then? Did she think he'd be impressed by her poise? He _was_ impressed, at that, but he decided that that wasn't it either. It occurred to him that maybe she wanted _him_ to make the first move. Yes, that was it, he decided. An old-fashioned sort of girl.

"You can hold on to me if you want," he said casually over his shoulder as they waited for a red light to turn green. "In case we have to brake suddenly or something," he added.

"Oh, um, okay."

_"That didn't take much convincing_," House thought. He felt his pulse quicken slightly as the slender hands came to rest on his waist. Then the light changed and they were off again.

* * *

A/N: In progress. Sorry it took so long to post this chapter. All reviews welcome!


	5. The Diagnosis

Chapter 5: The Diagnosis

Mallory's apartment was small, but cozy looking. It turned up absolutely nothing interesting as far as environmental causes for the loss of her sense of smell. All of her cosmetics were either labelled "for sensitive skin" or "hypoallergenic". There was no mold growing anywhere, and she basically had no cleaning products. "I just use vinegar, baking soda, and dish soap for the most part," she'd explained. "Because of the skin thing." Apart from a few dirty dishes stacked by the sink and quite a few books lying here and there, the apartment was spotless.

House straightened up from his perusal of the cupboard under the kitchen sink. "You described your place as being 'kinda messy' – what makes you say that?"

Mallory blushed. "Well, the books and dishes. I'm kind of a perfectionist."

"Mmm-hmm." House was now inspecting the contents of the fridge, where everything was neatly arranged and labelled with a date. "I can see that. So, what are you gonna have for dinner tonight?"

Mallory was a bit taken aback at the question, but she supposed it wasn't so strange considering lunch and the events leading up to it. "Umm, I don't know. But I'll definitely eat something. Don't worry about that." House was staring at her fixedly, as if assessing the truth of her answer, and Mallory laughed a bit nervously. "What are _you_ gonna have?"

House shrugged. "Was thinking about pizza."

"Pizza's always a good idea."

House glanced out the kitchen window and took in the immaculate green lawn and perfectly sculpted hedges. "We could order in." He said it casually, without looking at her.

_We could order in_? Did he just want to make sure she ate again, or was it something more? Mallory smiled. "Okay. As long as there's no mushrooms."

* * *

Pizza and monster trucks was a no-fail combination, House thought. And Mallory actually seemed to be enjoying it too. House had to admit he'd spent almost as much of the time watching her as he had watching the truck rally. She didn't ask any stupid questions like "why were they smashing such expensive vehicles", or "why anyone actually enjoyed watching this sort of thing", unlike some other women he could name. She even said "Awesome!" after one particularly fiery crash that had the fire crew rushing out.

"You know, most girls don't go in for this sort of thing," House said, refilling his glass during a commercial break. He popped some ice cubes out of the tray, ignoring the one that hit the kitchen floor.

"I used to watch it with my dad when I was growing up," Mallory said. She grabbed her empty glass and headed for the fridge. "I was an only child, and so–"

"Watch it!"

"Woah!"

House had warned her a moment too late, and could only watch as Mallory slipped on his errant ice cube. He reached out reflexively, but she went down, smashing the glass beneath her hand.

"Sorry, my bad," House said. "My ice cube. I was getting around to picking it up." He reached out a hand to help her up. "You okay?"

Mallory tentatively lifted her left hand off of the broken cup and winced. "Ow..." Shards of glass were stuck in her palm and fingers, including a particularly large piece embedded in the base of her thumb. Blood was welling up from several of the smaller lacerations, and oozing around the large chunk of glass. She took House's proffered hand with her own uninjured one and stood up, shaking bits of glass from her jeans. "Ow," she repeated.

House guided her over the remains of the broken cup and to the sink. "Really sorry," he said. "Should've picked up the ice cube, but it hurts my leg to bend down."

"No, it's my fault," Mallory said, wincing as she picked bits of glass out of her hand. "Wasn't really watching where I was walking."

House gave her hand an appraising look. "Gonna need some tweezers," he said.

"Bathroom cabinet." She turned on the cold water and let it run over her hand.

"And alcohol."

Mallory looked up. "You are NOT going to put alcohol on my hand."

"Relax – it's just to disinfect the tweezers."

"Oh. Well, it's in the bathroom cabinet too."

House returned momentarily and Mallory turned off the water. "I think I got all the little pieces out. It's just the big one." She held her good hand out. "Tweezers. Gimme."

House handed them over.

Mallory turned back to the sink. She could tell this one was really going to hurt. House was hovering over her shoulder, watching. She hesitated.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

"Don't watch!" Mallory protested. "Go sweep up the glass or something. The broom's in the front closet."

"You know, _I_ could do that for you," House said, indicating her hand.

"No!"

"Fine, fine." He raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Have it your way."

House wasn't used to being ordered around, but he went and got the broom anyway, and swept up the glass. When he was finished he went over to the sink where Mallory was still fiddling around. "How goes it?" His tone was casual.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I can't do this. It hurts too much."

"Okay. Why don't you let me take a look? I _am _a doctor after all."

She smiled half-heartedly.

"I'll be gentle, I promise."

"Okay." Resignedly Mallory handed over the tweezers.

"We need more light," House said. "Maybe you could sit down at the table." If she was sitting she might be more relaxed, he hoped.

She went and sat while House fetched the piano lamp and plugged it in. "That's better. Okay, let's see it."

Mallory let Dr. House take her hand, but as soon as he touched the edge of the embedded glass with the tweezers she jerked it away and swore.

"Wow. So that's what it takes to hear some language from you."

"Sorry – I'm sorry." Mallory's face was beet red.

"Doesn't bother me."

"It's just that I _never_ swear – I teach grade four kids, for crying out loud!"

"Don't worry about it. Was just kind of amusing. Ready to try again?"

She sighed and put her hand back up on the table. "Yeah."

House gripped her wrist firmly this time and Mallory instinctively tried pulling away, but his grip was tight.

"Wait! Wait! Don't do it yet!"

He hadn't even moved the hand that held the tweezers. "Relax – I just need to hold your hand still, okay?"

Mallory covered her mouth with her right hand and nodded, a few tears escaping those sparkly eyes. "I just know it's gonna hurt so much!"

"Mallory. Relax. Breathe. Just take a few deep breaths."

"Okay." _I think that's the first time he's actually called me 'Mallory'_, she speculated, trying to distract herself from what was coming.

Keeping a firm grip on her wrist, House felt for the edge of the glass again. It was almost entirely buried beneath the skin.

"Aahh!" Mallory gasped and tried pulling away again. "Stop! STOP!"

House lifted the tweezers and let go of her hand. "This needs to be frozen. Otherwise I can't get it out without it hurting a lot. I think the glass must be touching a tendon or possibly the bone at the base of the thumb."

"Um, okay." Mallory got up and wiped her eyes with her good hand. She laughed shakily. "Didn't think I'd be going to the clinic twice today."

"Well, look on the bright side," House said, heading towards the door, "at least it'll be two times when you don't have to wait at all."

"Lucky me." Mallory opened the front closet. "Um, do you mind helping me put my sweater on?"

"Sure." House held the sleeve carefully so that it didn't touch her hand.

"Wait! I just remembered – we can't go out now!"

House gave her a puzzled look. "We can't go out now...why?"

"It's almost eight. They fog for mosquitoes at eight, and everyone's supposed to stay indoors until nine."

House looked at his watch. "I've got 7:53. We'll just hurry and we'll be fine. I'll help you close the windows."

"Oh, don't bother, I like to have them open when it's hot like this. Besides, I'm on the third floor, I don't think anyone's gonna try to climb up and break in."

"Yeah, but don't you close them when they fog?"

"No. Third floor. I don't think it matters."

"Mmm, yeah, it does." House walked into the living room and started closing windows. "The stuff is pretty airborne, and if there's even a slight breeze it goes all over."

"Oh." Convinced, Mallory headed back in and joined the window-closing.

"Didn't they give you an information leaflet or anything?"

"Yeah. I think it's on top of the fridge. I just paid attention to the first part, where it says when not to go outside."

House suddenly turned and looked at her thoughtfully. "How long have you lived here?"

"Eight months now."

"When did they start fogging?"

"About a month ago."

"Hmm. I think we may have just found the cause of your anosmia."

"But that's only been for two weeks–"

"I know." He glanced at his watch as she closed the last window. "Bring that leaflet along. We'd better go."

* * *

The clinic was just as busy and crowded in the evening as it had been earlier in the day. As before, House led Mallory straight through the melee and snagged an empty exam room. She read the mosquito fogging leaflet while he washed his hands and found the plastic gloves again.

"It _does_ say that everyone should close their windows. Now I feel stupid."

House came over and glanced at the page. It was entirely filled with small print. "Enough useless information burying the pertinent facts." He skimmed over it. "The stuff is known to cause asthma in some people, headaches, nausea, dizziness...cancer..."

"Cancer? It does NOT say cancer!" Mallory grabbed the paper with her good hand.

"I know. I added that one."

"What?"

"Just speculating."

"Thanks. I'll be all worried now."

"_Oops_," House thought. "Don't be worried. Like I said, it was just idle speculation. Anyway, I'm about ninety percent sure that's what caused you to lose your sense of smell. I think it didn't happen immediately because it was a cumulative effect."

"But that's not listed as a possible side effect of exposure."

"I know. I think this is quite a rare manifestation. It may have something to do with the fact that your body seems to be very sensitive to chemicals and fragrances."

"So, do you think it's..." Mallory couldn't complete the thought.

"Permanent? No. I think if you move somewhere else for a week or so, your sense of smell will start to return as the chemical leaves your system."

"Oh, thank God! I sure hope you're right!"

"Unfortunately, it means you should probably find some other place to live...even if you do start closing your windows, I think you have a hypersensitivity, and it's not a good idea to live anywhere where they fog on a regular basis."

"Yeah...makes sense. I just _really_ hope you're right though."

"One way to find out." House went back to the counter and got out a syringe. "Almost forgot about your hand. Can you sit on the table, please? It's a better height for me."

Mallory laughed nervously. She climbed up, watching House fill the syringe and push the air out of the needle. A tiny bit of liquid spurted out of the end, and she shuddered.

House turned around and caught the expression on her face. "You afraid of needles?"

"Just the usual amount."

He smiled and took her hand. "If you're brave I'll give you a lollipop."

Mallory tried to smile back and squeezed her eyes shut. "Okay."

House injected the freezing, perhaps a bit more carefully than usual.

Mallory opened her eyes and let out her breath with relief. "Wasn't so bad."

"Now I'll have to steal a lollipop from the nurses' station. They usually try to stop me from taking them just because they know _I_ eat them."

Mallory laughed, not sure whether he was joking or not.

House went back to the cupboard and got out some gauze, tweezers, and a brown bottle filled with suspicious-looking liquid.

"Is that alcohol?"

"Nope. It's savlon."

"It's what?"

"Savlon. Like alcohol, but it doesn't burn."

"Really? Where was that stuff when my mother was cleaning all of my scraped elbows and knees?"

"Yeah, no kidding." House touched the base of her thumb gently with the tweezers. "That hurt?"

"No."

He pressed harder. "That?"

"Nope."

"Great." It was easy as anything to get one side of the tweezers under the chunk of glass and pull it out when Mallory wasn't flinching and jerking away like she had before. House washed out the gash and then swabbed it and the rest of the abrasions with the savlon, which, as he promised, didn't burn at all. He reached for a box of band-aids, but Mallory stopped him with an upraised hand.

"Allergic."

"Oh, right." He searched through the drawers dubiously. "Medical tape?"

"Mmm, none of that adhesive stuff. It's the glue."

"So, not steri-strips either."

"Probably not. I get a really itchy rash."

"Okay. Cotton and gauze it is." House put a cotton swab over the gash, wound a strip of gauze around it a few times, and tied a secure knot. "Seems a bit primitive, but it'll have to do."

"Thanks." Mallory wiggled her still-frozen thumb experimentally. She looked up at him suddenly with a calculating expression. "So…if you'd have gotten the glass out at my place, would you have swabbed my hand with alcohol?"

"Yup." He said it with no hesitation.

"Yup?" Mallory gave him a look of wide-eyed disbelief. "You liar! You told me it was just for the tweezers! Unbelievable."

She shook her head disapprovingly, but she really didn't look too mad, House thought. "Well, it's not like I would've necessarily just gone and done it, I might have tried to talk you into it first."

"Right. You _couldn't_ have talked me into it."

"Then I would have just done it anyway."

Mallory glared at him. "Unbelievable," she repeated. Then she smiled in spite of herself. "Hippocrates would agree, I suppose. Doing the best you can with what you have, and all that."

House found himself staring at her again, and hadn't really paid attention to whatever it was she'd said last. "Um, yeah," he replied, hoping the answer fit. "So, do you have somewhere you can stay for awhile until you can find another place?"

"My aunt's not far from here. I think she probably won't mind if I crash there for a few weeks."

"That's good. What about tonight? It's already after nine." He paused. "I have room at my house if you need a place."

Mallory blushed. "Thanks, um, I really appreciate the thought, but I think I'll just call my aunt."

"Alright – oh, I promised you a lollipop, didn't I?" He was stalling, and he knew it.

Mallory hopped down from the table and laughed. "You really don't have to do that." On impulse, she stood on her tip-toes and kissed House on the cheek. "Thanks so much for figuring out why I lost my sense of smell, and for taking care of my hand."

House smiled. "Well, I could still be wrong about your sense of smell – though I doubt it – and _I_ pretty much caused the injury to your hand."

Mallory shook her head. "Not really, but I forgive you anyways."

House took her hand on the pretense of checking the makeshift bandage again. He could tell she was attracted to him, but she hadn't wanted to come home with him. Maybe he needed to start slower. "So...if you have no plans for dinner tomorrow, I know this great Italian place," he said. "_Smooth_," he thought sarcastically. Somehow she was making him feel as awkward as a high school boy.

"Um, sure, sounds great." She smiled her dazzling smile.

House let his eyes linger on her face for a moment. "Alright. It's a date."

Mallory left the clinic with a smile on her face and the words "It's a date" ringing in her ears. All in all, she decided, it had actually been a good day.

* * *

A/N: Now complete. All reviews welcome.


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